But then she looks away and the moment breaks.
“I’m not the one making it hard,” I murmur.
The words come out before I can stop them, defensive and careless, and so much sharper than I mean for them to.
She flinches like I’ve struck her.
Her hand tightens around the sheets, pulling them higher around her body as if it can shield her from what I just said.
The look on her face is small and hurt, and I hate myself for causing it in the first place.
Regret slams into me instantly.
“Hey,” I start, taking a step closer to her but she shakes her head before I can even reach her.
“It’s fine,” she says, though the crack in her voice betrays her. “Just…go, Grant. Please.”
I stand there for another second wanting to take it back, to say something that will undo the damage, but there’s nothing that won’t sound like another misstep.
Nothing will change reality or the fact that what I’ve said is true.
This, loving her, has been the hardest thing I’ve ever done.
And I wish it were different.
I wish…our circumstances could be different.
I let out a slow breath and nod. “Okay.”
She doesn’t look up as I open the door.
The hinges squeak quietly, breaking the silence between us once more.
From the hallway, I glance back once more.
The light catches her profile and for a split second, I see all of it: the love, thepain, that this has caused her.
I want to tell her that she’s worth the inevitable struggle that will ensue if the truth were to come out.
That she and Eli are worth the risk, worth every painful bruise, that will come with trying to fit our broken pieces together to be a family.
Except the words stick in my throat.
So instead I close the door behind me and leave her with everything we should’ve never let happen.
17
NOELLE
When Dad arrives home earlier than expected, the sound of his truck crunches up the driveway, a gunshot ricocheting through the entire house.
Every conversation stops mid-sentence, the clatter of dishes ceases, even Eli’s racecar freezes in place on the table where he’s been zooming it in circles.
For one impossible heartbeat, no one moves.
I’m halfway out of the dining room when the front door swings open.
The cold rushes in first, followed by the familiar stomp of his boots on the porch and the low rumble of his voice as he shakes the snow off his coat and steps inside.
